


Blended

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Fluff, Married Jonsa, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 10:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13856334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: Despite knowing she carried Jon’s child, she was conflicted about it. Harry was not sired by Jon but her son had never known his true father. Harrold Hardyng had died in the Battle for Winterfell when Sansa was still in The Eyrie, nursing their son. To her boy, Jon is the only father he knows and certainly the best father Sansa could ask for.And when Jon married her to secure the North and Winterfell, he had taken Harry under his wing, treated him as if he had been his own blood. And Sansa had loved him all the more for it.Still, a child of his own could change everything. And if it did, Harry might not understand what was happening, being still so young. He may not understand what it meant for him to be Lord of the Eyrie and his sibling to be heir to Winterfell.





	Blended

**Author's Note:**

> From an anonymous prompt on Tumblr :)

She was distracted from her sewing by the sound of her son’s laughter. Smiling, she carefully placed the jerkin she was mending for Jon across the back of her chair and placed her needles in the basket by her feet.

She opened the door, peering out in time to see Harry giggling as he ran down the corridor. His eyes lit up when he saw her, his arms stretching up for protection right before Jon caught him around the waist, lifting him high in the air. Harry screamed in delight, his dimples visible in his cheeks as Jon tickled him and gave a playful growl.

“Honestly,” Sansa sighed in pretend exasperation. “You are teaching him terrible manners.”

“I am letting him be the two years he is,” Jon replied, shifting Harry until he was settled against his chest, the little arms encircling his neck. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll go and make sure he is settled. I’ll come to bed straight after.”

She nodded, giving him a smile as she watched him carry Harry away to his chambers for bed.

She stepped away from the door with a harsh exhale, her hands drifting down to rest against her stomach. It is still early, it hasn’t been much past a moon since her last bleeding and her body hasn’t started to change yet. But Sansa knows she is with child once more even without going to the maester.

Despite knowing she carried Jon’s child, she was conflicted about it. Harry was not sired by Jon but her son had never known his true father. Harrold Hardyng had died in the Battle for Winterfell when Sansa was still in The Eyrie, nursing their son. To her boy, Jon is the only father he knows and certainly the best father Sansa could ask for. 

And when Jon married her to secure the North and Winterfell, he had taken Harry under his wing, treated him as if he had been his own blood. And Sansa had loved him all the more for it.

Still, a child of his own could change everything. And if it did, Harry might not understand what was happening, being still so young. He may not understand what it meant for him to be Lord of the Eyrie and his sibling to be heir to Winterfell. 

“You’re not in bed,” came Jon’s soft voice, although the suddenness still caused her to jump. She cast him a small smile over her shoulder, her shoulders lifting in a small shrug.

“I was lost in my thoughts,” she replied honestly.

He hummed and before she knew it, she felt his arms around her waist, his lips at her neck before nuzzling his nose against her shoulder.

“Is everything alright?” he asked as he started to pull at the laces at the back of her dress, freeing her to slip the sleeves down her arms.

“Well, there is something we need to discuss,” she murmured as she stepped out of the skirts pooled at her feet.

She wrapped her arms around herself against the cold air, her shift too thin for such conditions. She reached for her night dress which she had hung by the fire to warm. She could hear a rustle behind her, telling her that Jon was removing his own clothing and it amazed her that after almost a year of marriage and the amount of times he bedded her she could still flush at the thought them of changing in front of each other.

She didn’t do so normally, she had just wanted to stay by the fire for the warmth. Jon certainly didn’t seem to mind as his arms once more wrapped around her, pulling her back against his bare chest. She clucked her tongue, giving him a frown over her shoulder.

“You’ll freeze,” she said firmly. She felt him smile against her cheek.

“I know a few ways to keep warm,” he replied, chuckling when she swiped his hands away and stepped out of his embrace.

He followed her to the bed, walking around to the other side to lift the furs there. She waited for him to settle on his back before shifting over and pressing herself against his side. She sighed in contentment as he squeezed her close, his arm stroking up and down her own.

“What did you want to discuss?” he asked softly.

“I’m with child,” she replied. There was no point delaying it. He paused, moving slightly in order to look down at her as she tilted her face up to gauge his reaction.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” she replied, still watching him carefully as his face broke into a grin. He leaned down, tilting her chin so he could kiss her over and over.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips before kissing her again. “Thank you.”

She felt his hand slide away from her arm and ghost down her front in order to hesitantly press his palm to her stomach. She smiled at his tenderness, how wide his eyes were as he watched his hand stroke across her covered belly.

“It is still early,” she whispered, reaching for his hand. “Jon… does this change things?”

“In what way?” he asked, finally looking back up at her face with a confused frown.

“Well, this babe…they will be yours,” she said, biting her lip nervously as his frown deepened.

“Sansa,” he sighed, reaching to stroke her cheek as he moved to sit up. Sansa pulled her body up to lean on the pillows beside him, waiting for him to continue. He gave her a tender smile as he slung his arm around her shoulder once more.

“I love Harry. He won’t ever know the difference from me,” he promised. He pressed his hand against her stomach again, the smile growing. “And he won’t know the difference from this little one either.”

“But…”

“It will be like Robb and I,” he continued, gently interrupting her. “They’ll never care about it. They’ll be as thick as thieves, causing you grief as they steal from the kitchens and beating me with sticks in the Godswood.”

“Sadly, I know that will be true whether we have a boy or girl,” Sansa laughed, sliding back down on the bed beside him. “This child will be wild, I know it and I’m blaming you!”

Jon laughed, moving to lie back down beside her. He lifted his arm again, allowing her to snuggle against his chest once more.

“Well,” Jon murmured after a moment, and she felt his grin against the top of her head before he continued. “We should probably have a few more to ensure that you definitely have some gentler company.”

***

She paused on the battlements, clutching Lyanna close to her chest as she looked down upon Jon with Harry and Ned  in the courtyard. Jon was kneeling beside Harry, correcting his stance with gentle guidance as he held the bow in his hands. Ned was watching patiently, trying to copy with his own bow. Jon moved back, turning to Ned to do the same.

Both the boys loosed their arrows, missing the targets by a long shot. Harry tilted his head back and let out an exaggerated sound of annoyance that reminded her of Arya when she used to be caught sneaking away and dragged back to the sewing lessons. Ned looked solemnly at the ground, a Stark in looks and nature, she thought fondly. Harry may have looked like her late husband with his blonde hair and dimpled cheeks, but he was a Stark in nature too. And Sansa knew that it was as much to do with Jon raising him as his own beside Ned as it does with her genes.

Jon ruffled each of their heads, kneeling in front of them. He dragged them forward by their hands, no doubt whispering encouragement to them and assuring them that they will get better with time.

"Come on Ned, I'll race you to the springs!" Harry cried, dropping his bow and turning to run. Ned laughed, moving to take after his brother.

"Ahem! Tidy up first boys, you know that!" Jon called after them, folding his arms expectantly until the boys came back and pick up their bows.

Lyanna gurgled in her arms, drawing her eyes down to see her daughter's grey eyes blinking up at her as she wriggled in Sansa's arms, as though hearing her family in the courtyard and wanting to be part of the moment too. Sansa already knew already that Lyanna was going to be as wild as her namesake, another child who would run through the Godswood and prefer swords to sewing. She loved her children though she still longed for a child who she could sew pretty dresses for and who would let her brush her hair without fidgeting and swatting at her hands.

Still, Sansa thought as she watched Jon chase Harry and Ned into the Godswood, Jon had promised they would have plenty more.


End file.
